


Mom Knows Best

by ShivaeSyke



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Dorks in Love, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Mother-Son Relationship, Pandemic - Freeform, missing parent, toilet paper mania
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShivaeSyke/pseuds/ShivaeSyke
Summary: Bog's prepared for anything, especially the impending reality of being locked in his house to make sure his dear mother doesn't catch any serious illness that's going around. Unfortunately, Griselda doesn't agree with her son trying to keep her safe indoors and has other plans.
Relationships: Bog King & Griselda (Strange Magic), Bog King/Marianne (Strange Magic)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Should only be a few chapters. *Sigh* We are officially in a state of lockdown in my county in Texas. :/ I've got my toilet paper, because I bought it before everyone else decided to start using it. Still confused about what they were doing BEFORE this.  
> This began after the following conversation with my husband. He came to me seriously stating: We need to have an emergency stash of supplies... and toilet paper. And I'm looking at him going: No, don't you dare turn into one of those tp hoarders. I ALREADY make sure we have spare water and such. Then he added: In case of tornados too. And I'm going: Tornados? What good is toilet paper during a tornado? So yes, it then spurred a couple days of: Hahah.. that kinda sounds like a Bog and Marianne conversation, Bog all stocked up, suddenly decides he needs more toilet paper because everyone else is buying it while Marianne's going: We got enough. Don't be ridiculous you overprotective oaf.
> 
> Minimal editing, because I shouldn't be doing this.

Bog furrowed his brow, looking over the list for the umpteenth time. The list was a long one, but one he usually kept. Bog took his stockpiling seriously, prepared by government lists as well as his personal lists for bug out bags for him, his mother, and one for his neighbor, and a couple extra just in case. Those were filled with lightweight foods and bottled water as well as packs of filters and special equipment to sterilize water on the go. 

The pantry was stocked full of food, the little extra freezer was full of meat, and the fridge was stocked with everything in its proper place for the best long term storage. He had an expensive vacuum sealer set up on the counter that he had been practicing with for weeks. The bathroom was stocked with all the recommended meds, even the newly updated ones that were safer. Bog couldn't take any chances. He had enough toilet paper to last him and his mother for at least three months, so all was good.

There was just one problem. With the constant news that people were buying toilet paper and emptying the shelves, it gave him repeated urging to go and buy a few more rolls. Just enough to last three more months in case the lockdown, when it was inevitably in effect, made people go out and keep the shelves empty for even longer. What if everyone kept buying the toilet paper even after that, and he ran low? He needed to get just one more big package, and he would feel good about their situation. 

Singing came from his mother's bedroom, and Bog set aside his tablet. What was that all about?

-=-=-=-=-=- 

Griselda sang to herself, brushing her hair out neatly in front of her ornate vanity. She was in a nice dress, with a little light makeup on, and preparing to go out to pick up a cup of her favorite cappuccino and sit outside one of the closed coffeehouses to chat with her girlfriends. They had a weekly get together, and a little virus wasn't going to keep them from it. These young people and their paranoid actions were not going to keep them from it. After all, they were old enough to have seen several of these, and if they caught anything, well, they all lived long lives. Who knew when the next time they would be able to get together would be. This would be the last visit outside their homes anyway, so they all wanted to keep the date to chatter and visit with each other and talk about their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. 

She loved hearing about these things from her good friends because her own son was such a nervous wreck around women, he had never managed to even have a girlfriend. The girl next door was just about the only prospect he had, and he refused to think of her that way. Never mind how often she heard them bantering back and forth when playing their vidya games on the computer and in the living room. They trash-talked each other into the night and early morning regularly, shooting each other to death multiple times along with their various shared friends.

Marianne had even been over for dinner several times at Griselda's invitation, but Bog wouldn't say anything to her while actually face to face with her. He was polite but speechless, and Griselda knew why. Her son had a serious crush on her and seemed to think it would never get further than that, and if he acted on it, she might never talk to him again. He would lose the friend he had in her, and he valued her highly as a friend. The only thing that would break that would be if she were the one to come for him.

"Mother, why are ye all dressed up?" Bog leaned into the doorway, staring at her with wide eyes. "Ye aren't planning on going out, are ye?" His voice took on a worried tone.

"I need to leave in an hour for my visit with the girls," chuckled Griselda, turning to her son.

"But ye shouldn't leave the house." Bog stepped fully into the room, hands held up in front of him like he didn't know what to do with them. "We talked about this. Yer 67, ye shouldn't be out there. Neither of us should."

"Bog, I'm just going down to the New Grounds coffee shop to have a drink with my friends." Griselda stood and looked at herself in the mirror. "This is a free country."

"Mother." Bog made a face at her. "I am not letting ye leave the house for any reason."

"It's five minutes away. I'll be out there and back in a couple of hours." Griselda laughed, looking at herself, "I was hot once. Your father couldn't keep his hands off of me."

"Mother, stop changing the subject." Bog rolled his eyes. "Please, promise me, you'll stay at home. I want to see ye call up yer friends and cancel."

Griselda turned to her son, giving him a stern look. "You can't tell me what to do, Bog. I'm going out."

"No." Bog glowered. "Yer not. I will stand here in yer door if I have to."

"Bog, get out of the way, or I'm going through the window." Griselda motioned to her bedroom window, which was currently open to let a little breeze in. "I am going to that meeting with or without your permission because you can't tell me what to do."

"Mother, please," groaned Bog hands out in a supplicating motion. "Do not go out. Look at me, I'm begging ye not to leave the house until the risk is gone."

"We live a life full of risk, Bog. I'm not letting a virus that I may or may not even catch stop me from living my life. We are not in an area that's passed any kind of restrictions other than keeping six feet away from each other."

"But yer going to be around other people, and I know ye, ye'll all be gathered up like a bunch of hens, looking at photos and videos." Bog persisted, giving his mother the saddest expressions possible. "Mother, please, I don't know what I would do if I lost you."

"Oh, you don't?" Visions of Bog sitting alone in their home, playing video games, and eating nothing but ramen noodles filled Griselda's head. She smiled, getting an idea, "Well, then, let me make you a deal. Go next door and invite Marianne over for lunch and one of those board games you enjoy. I want to see you talk to her and play a game face to face."

The color drained from Bog's face as he opened and closed his mouth. Griselda folded her arms and gave him a stern look. "I guess I can do that," muttered Bog. "If ye'll listen to me and not leave the house."

"I promise." Griselda grinned. "Now go over there and invite Marianne over."

-=-=-=-=-=- 

Marianne sat in her cozy living room, drinking a cup of hot coffee, her feet up on the coffee table. Everything going on in the world didn't really affect her since her job kept her working from home, and everyone she knew was safe and keeping their distance from everyone else. She had everything she needed for at least two months and wouldn't need to go out at any point. If she really needed anything, she could order it.

With all her preparations done, Marianne was startled when someone knocked on her door, Nobody knocked on her door. She lived in a quiet neighborhood and rarely even talked to her neighbors, preferring to duck inside her house and avoid idle conversation. Still, someone knocked on her door. Marianne grumbled and got up to see who it was.

His head was down, so all she saw was his short dark brown hair when she opened the door. Her neighbor was so incredibly tall, she should have been looking up at him, way up, but he was slouched forward with his hands in his jean pockets, slumped over. "G'good morning, Marianne." Bog stammered, glancing at her shyly.

"Bog?" Marianne leaned forward, trying to see his face. "Is there an emergency?"

"No." Bog inhaled deeply and attempted to stand up straighter, beginning to tug at his black t-shirt nervously. His face was bright red, blue eyes darting wildly around. "I, uh, Marianne?"

"Yes?" She stared at him, scrunching up her face.

Bog whispered something, trying to look her in the eye, but Marianne didn't catch it. Her ridiculously shy neighbor was being weirder than usual. Online, he was hilarious, bold, and far more talkative. In-person, he was always like this, stumbling, withdrawn, socially in pain. 

"Are you okay?" Marianne suddenly became concerned, stepping through her door to rest a hand on Bog's shoulder. It was a friendly gesture, trying to ease his anxiety, but had the opposite effect as he went rigid.

"I, I," Bog stammered, his face reddening further as he tried harder. "Do you need anything? I'm going out to get more toilet paper later, and if you need some, I can look for it!"

"Oh, good grief, Bog, do not become one of those weird toilet paper hoarders!" Marianne groaned, rolling her eyes. 

"No! No! I'm not!" Bog waved his hands in front of him, frantically. "Mom wanted to know if you would come over for lunch today, and I wanted to see if you'd play a board game with me!"

Marianne glanced back inside her house, then to her neighbor. It wouldn't hurt to get out, and spending time with Bog would be fun. Maybe he would loosen up enough to be more like he was online. He had confided in her about how he suffered social anxiety, so she never pushed him to talk to her in person. She smiled at him. He was so adorably awkward, especially when she knew what he was really like. And he was cute, standing there with those beautiful blue eyes, sharply defined face and a long nose she found oddly attractive. Actually, he was attractive all the way around, from the thick head of spiky hair, over those beautiful broad shoulders, narrow waist, and jeans that showed off his long legs and pleasantly outlined his butt.

"Sure. I'm not doing anything else." Marianne smiled, lifting her keys off the hook by the door to join Bog on the porch and lock her front door. Bog stood there, staring as she bounced across the porch and down the steps. "Well?" She turned to see him still standing there, that stunned look fixed on his face.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Bog followed Marianne to his house, trying to keep his eyes up and not on the way the dark pink cami she wore rose over her hips as she walked. Today, she was wearing black leggings with little gold rose patterns rising up one side, outlining every muscle in her legs and thighs. Marianne went out for a run every morning and had nicely rounded legs and hips from it. Bog fixed his eyes on her short auburn hair, which bounced with each step. She was so beautiful, and he was tongue-tied when he could see those gorgeous brown eyes with their thick black eyelashes shading them.

They walked into Bog's house and into the kitchen, where Bog noticed something was amiss immediately. There was a note on the table, folded over a loaf of bread and everything needed to make sandwiches. With a growl, Bog stepped past Marianne and picked up the note, flipping it over to read: I'll listen to you and not leave the house after today. See you in a few hours. 

"Bog?" Marianne stared at him as he began trembling, staring at the letter, his lips quivering in terror. "What's wrong?"

"My mother promised not to go out. She promised," muttered Bog. "I'm sorry, Marianne, I need to go get her and get her home before she catches it."

"It, what's-ohhhh," Marianne's eyes shot open wide. "Bog, it's okay. I'm sure she's okay."

"I know where she is," sighed Bog. 

Marianne bit her lower lip in thought. "Why don't I go with you? I'm not doing anything else."

"Ye don't have to. She's my mother," Bog grumbled, crumpling the letter and tossing it onto the table.

"I want to." Marianne smiled, reaching out to lay her hand on Bog's arm. "Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes... editing after I posted... sorry....


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grizelda's plan is put into motion and her son and Marianne embark on a search to find her and get her home before she catches any serious illnesses!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note that this would take place while people are just supposed to keep their distance. ;) Bog's actually worried way before he SHOULD be worried in Grizelda's opinion.
> 
> I apologize for the brief editing. Writing with an eye patch and I can't see very well. :P This should be gone tomorrow.. .hopefully... migraines are awful!

Griselda sat on her bed with a phone in hand, listening to her son and the neighbor girl talking. There were hurried footsteps, then the door opened again and closed with a bang. “And they’re on their way. I know it’s a rushed plan, but I’m sure it’ll work.”

“This so not nice, Grizzy,” one of the three other women on the phone laughed. “But we’ll do our part.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” added the second.

“I can’t believe he didn’t look for you,” finished the third.

“Once my boy gets something in mind, he tends to move in a straight line,” chuckled Griselda sliding off her bed. She glanced at her shoes, jogging shoes. Well worn ones, because she kept in good shape by jogging in the mornings, often with Marianne. “I’ll let you know how it goes! Talk to you shortly!”

With a laugh, Griselda grabbed her purse, tossed her phone inside, and set out to follow her son and Marianne. At the least, this would be fun.

-=-=-=-=-- 

Marianne easily kept up with Bog’s long stride as they hurried down the street to Old Town. It was close enough they didn’t bother with a car, and Bog was too annoyed to even think about it. Everything looked normal as they kept to the sidewalk, at least, the traffic was normal. The streets that typically had a large number of people walking and visiting were empty.

Every store was closed to anyone coming inside, with the restaurants open to people coming in to pick up food, and that was it. The lack of people was eerie, and Marianne stuck close to Bog, unconsciously reaching out to grab his hand to remind him she was with him, and he shouldn’t walk too fast.

Bog didn’t even seem to notice when she took his hand, his eyes focused forward, jaw tight with annoyance, but he curled his fingers around hers and slowed down. Marianne glanced at him with a smile. How long had she wanted to do that one simple thing? Just touch him, and she had because she wasn’t thinking about it. She just wanted a little security.

They reached New Grounds to find one of Griselda’s friends, Sugar, sitting there. The little old lady with coffee dark skin and a head of white hair was on the phone with a cup of coffee in front of her and a half-eaten cinnamon roll. There were two other cups of coffee in front of her and a second massive cinnamon roll sitting on the table in front of her.

“Sugar, where’s my mom?” Bog inquired gruffly, stomping up to her, grinding his teeth.

“Grizzy went to the flower shop with Clover and Rose,” grinned Sugar in response. “She said you two would be along and bought you coffee and a cinnamon roll since you hadn’t had breakfast yet.” The older woman gestured to the table.

Bog made a face. “Why in the world did she need to go to a flower shop?”

“I have no idea.” Sugar shrugged as Marianne picked up one of the coffee cups, the one marked with an M, and sipped it.

“Oooh, Snickerdoodle.” Marianne promptly took another sip and sat down to pick off a piece of the cinnamon roll.

“We don’t have time for this,” groused Bog, picking up the second cup and sipping. His eyes widened. “Double chocolate peanut butter,” he groaned, licking his lips.

“These are the best cinnamon rolls!” Marianne looked up at Bog. “Come on, I can’t eat this all by myself,” she giggled. “Well, I could, but I shouldn’t!”

Bog sighed, looking down the sidewalk, tapping his fingers on the cup. “I suppose we have a few minutes.” He sat next to Marianne and began picking apart the roll with her, smiling as she started going for the gooey center piece. “Don’t eat it all. I like that part too.”

“Half?” Marianne grinned at him, picking at it and making delightful noises as she popped it into her mouth, then licked her lips. “No fork?” She glanced at the table, noting they only had napkins.

“Who knows who’s been touching those plastic forks,” giggled Sugar, her face crinkling up around her eyes and nose. “Just lick your fingers.”

Bog glanced at Marianne, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he observed her doing just that, sticking her fingers into her mouth and licking them. Suddenly, finding his mother quickly wasn’t as much of a concern. For a moment, he stared, the smile taking over his face, then she looked at him, and he cleared his throat, looking away and picking up another piece of the roll.

Marianne giggled, a light blush tinging her cheeks. Bog was looking at her! She hadn’t intended to do anything remotely flirtatious with him, but now, she couldn’t resist. Only she made it a point not to look at him as they finished the cinnamon roll. Licking her lips and fingers deliberately, Marianne lingered on it, knowing he was watching her while trying not to make it obvious. 

There was one little piece left, and Bog was picking tiny bits of it off, taking drinks of his coffee in between. Marianne swiped a finger into the icing, grinning and glancing at Bog as she stuck it in her mouth, watching his reaction. He didn’t seem to notice her looking at him, his eyes fixated on her mouth, a huge smile spread over his face.

“Ye can have the last piece.” Bog slid the paper plate to Marianne, his voice dropping into a tone she had never heard from him before. 

“Thank you.” Marianne picked it up and slowly put it in her mouth, looking at Bog as she did. For a brief moment, their eyes met, his beautiful blue eyes looking at her warmly. It was probably the first time she got a good look at his eyes because he had a habit of never looking directly at her.

“You two make a cute couple,” chuckled Sugar, reminding them she was there.

“We’re not a couple,” both Bog and Marianne stated in unison, their voices breaking.

“You should be,” Sugar giggled, gathering her things and coffee cup. “I need to head on home. Good luck catching up to Grizzy!”

Bog and Marianne stared forward, their faces red, unable to look at each other. Marianne picked up the plate to discard it, quickly getting out of her chair. She did it so fast, her leg caught around the table leg, and she went down onto the concrete with a yelp.

“Marianne!” Bog pushed his chair aside to grab her around the waist, helping her up. “Are ye okay?”

“Ow.” Marianne held her hands out, turning them to see long bloody scrapes on her left palm where she had been holding the plate. The right wasn’t as bad, with a small scrape on the side of her hand, but it was covered in coffee. She squished the cup when she fell, and it went everywhere.

“It’s not that bad,” grumbled Bog, looking around for somewhere to go to clean it up. “Let’s see if we can get inside the coffee shop. He looked up to see an employee already at the door, pushing it open with a look of concern on his face.

-=-=-=-=-- 

Bog took Marianne’s right hand, turning it over to examine the row of band-aids covering the scrape. “It’ll do until ye get home. Ye can go if ye want. I can find my mom on my own.” He looked at her in concern.

“I’m okay.” Marianne grinned, closing her hand around Bog’s, his expression shifting to one of surprise. “Let’s go to Rose’s Roses and see if we can catch her.”

“Okay.” Bog looked away, making no effort to make Marianne let go. He just didn’t want her to see how red his face had become. She was touching him! The girl he’d had a crush on for years was willingly holding his hand and had several times over the last half hour. 

Bog walked, keeping his eyes on the empty sidewalk, wondering what it meant. Over the years, they spent a lot of time together online every evening. They constantly talked, because it was much easier to speak to Marianne when he wasn’t standing in front of her where she could see him.

He helped her move in on that first day they met over six years ago. A small moving van pulled up in front of the house next door, and this happy, cheerful young woman jumped out of the driver’s seat and began preparing to unload the truck. Her very hyperactive little sister showed up shortly after in her small car.

Bog watched them from his living room, curious about who was moving in. The van sat in front of the house while the two girls began unloading it, then he saw Marianne get a phone call, and the look on her face was anything but happy. When she hung up, she burst into tears, and her sister tried to console her.

And he watched, torn between the need to mind his own business and go out and see what was wrong. It was his mother who did something, having joined him at the window a few times. Bog told her what he saw, then to his horror, she stepped out the door and went up to them.

She ended up volunteering Bog to help, and he couldn’t say no. He didn’t say anything, keeping his eyes off of Marianne and her sister, Dawn, while the two of them tried to talk to him. He mumbled and did the heavy lifting, hearing that Marianne’s fiance was supposed to help, but had something come up.

Bog got to hear about the awful fiance often over the next year. He was unreliable and cheated on Marianne right before the wedding. She called it off and stayed in the house, a wedding present from her father. Occasionally, that jerk still came by to harass Marianne. Shortly after the wedding was called off, Griselda got Marianne’s gamer ID. He wasn’t sure how she did it, but when he got it, he didn’t wait long to contact her.

Then began the daily gaming. The pair of them enjoyed the same kind of games, which was pretty much all of them. He couldn’t talk to her in person, but online, he could be himself. There were nights that he never wanted to log off, craving her presence. In the mornings, they would occasionally chat and talk about this or that. It was as close to a real relationship as Bog could get, and he didn’t want to endanger it by going any further, no matter how much he wanted her like a real girlfriend.

There was also the fact he just couldn’t do it. His cute neighbor deserved someone amazing, someone, who was just as handsome as she was pretty.

That wasn’t him.

Still, he held her hand because he had never held a girls’ hand in his entire life, and it sent an amazing warm sensation through his body. He couldn’t let go if he wanted to.

-=-=-=-=--

They arrived at Rose’s Roses to find Rose standing outside, handing a bouquet to a man in a suit. He handed her a few folded bills, then quickly left when he saw Bog and Marianne approaching. 

“Rose, where’s my mom?” Bog went straight to the point, stopping in front of the old Hispanic woman with a head full of solid black hair. Not a strand of grey hair was present on her head, which was astounding because he was pretty sure she was in her sixties like his mom, and even she had grey hairs in her red hair.

“She’s with Clover at her store, Sweets, and Spirits,” Rose replied, with a smile. “Wait here a moment, she left something for you!”

“What?” Bog groaned as Rose went inside the store. She was only gone for a moment, returning to hand Bog an ornate hair clip decorated with tiny blue and white flowers. He stared at it, making a face. “What?”

“For her,” Rose whispered before turning and vanishing back into the store, leaving Bog and Marianne alone. 

“Uhm,” Bog cleared his throat, eyes widening, knowing Marianne heard what she said. He glanced at her, then at the clip. “Uhm.”

“Bog,” Marianne laughed, motioning to her hair just over her ear. “Go ahead. Put it in my hair.” She was beginning to sense a theme in what these little older women were up to and was willing to run with it. Bog didn’t seem to be catching on, his face turning bright red as he swallowed.

“Okay,” he whispered, running his fingers through Marianne’s short hair. “I’m not going to put it in right. It’s not going to look good.”

“Who cares, just slide it in the same direction my hair falls, and it’ll stick in place. Put it in how you think it looks good.” Marianne instructed, holding still as her eyes closed. The feel of his tentative fingers was pleasant, then he gently tried to place the clip. It immediately fell out into his hand. 

With a groan, Bog tried it again. It took several times before it was secured in place, and the color had drained from Bog’s face by the time he finally got it right. By then, he was also over his hesitation to touch her hair, sliding his fingers through it to make sure the clip was secured.

“Thank you, Bog.” Marianne smiled at him, her amber eyes meeting his for a moment. This time he held her gaze, smiling as he played with her hair, pushing it off her forehead. 

She was so beautiful, and she was letting him touch her. Bog pulled back after a moment, unsure if he was allowed to keep touching her, the whole situation devolving into awkwardness within seconds.

“Uhm, yer welcome. Let’s go.” Bog took a step back, and Marianne took a step forward, following him, reaching out to retake his hand. Bog smiled, turning away to begin walking, still confused about what was going on and almost forgetting where they were going next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, my choice was to let Grizelda sit in her room while getting phone updates about her son looking for her, while she's safe at home, vs an elaborate scheme to make Bog interact with Marianne. :D You can see which idea won with how cute it is. :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mom is nowhere to be found at the last stop, so Bog makes a detour to the grocery store and remembers he invited Marianne over for lunch.

Sweets and Spirits was a short walk around the block, a small candy store that also sold a variety of craft beers and wines. There was an old fashioned candy shop set up at the front of the store for children and those young at heart. In the back was a bar that served up a variety of drinks. The shop was open, but no one was allowed inside. 

Clover stood outside her shop. She was the youngest of his mother’s friends at somewhere in her fifties, a woman who immediately became friends with Bog’s mother because they were both short and had red hair. Clover was a perfectly nice woman, but when she got together with his mother, they harassed him relentlessly like a pair of mother hens instead of just one.

With a sigh, Bog walked up to her, still holding Marianne’s hand. He forgot he was holding her hand until Marianne leaned against him and placed her other hand on his arm. And he stood there, his mind going blank. Bog stared at Clover, swallowing hard. 

“Bog?” Clover peered at him with a smile, unsure what to make of his stricken expression. “Your mother just left. She told me to tell you she’s on her way home.”

“Oh, okay,” Bog whispered, nodding his head slowly. 

“I have something for you.” Clover smiled at them. “Wait here.”

Bog sighed, slowly shifting his eyes to look at Marianne as Clover went through her door, the bells over her door ringing. He found himself looking directly into Marianne’s lovely brown eyes, their warmth fixed on him. She was smiling, her cute lips set into a gentle curve, the dark plum lipstick she typically wore enhancing them. For a moment, he realized she was looking back, and he wanted to look away, but he didn’t.

“I’m sorry about whatever it is my mother’s up to.” He made a face at her and looked away as the bells rang again on Clover’s door. Clover held up a bag that clearly contained a couple of boxes and a bottle of wine. Bog scowled at Clover as he took the bag. “What’s in the bag, Clover?”

“Sweets for the sweet,” giggled Clover. “Why don’t you two head home and find out.”

Bog closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, grimacing. He wanted to give the bag back to her and leave, but Marianne heard what Clover said. It seemed rude to return something that was clearly intended for her. 

“Let’s just go back to your house,” stated Marianne, winking at Clover.

“Here, this is yers.” Bog turned, pulling his hand out of Marianne’s and thrusting the bag into her arms, unable to look at her. “Go on home. I’m going to run into the grocery while I’m out. Ye don’t need to come with me.”

Marianne pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes at Bog. There was no way she was letting the last hour go to waste. Today was the day. He didn’t see her face as she stepped up next to him, jaw set with determination. “I’m already out. I’m going with you. Maybe I’ll see something I need.” Bog nodded, beginning to walk.

-=-=-=-=- 

Bog scowled. Why was his mother trying to mess up his life? He was happy with how things were. His best friend in the world as his neighbor. Knowing she was nearby always made him feel so good. On the days he saw her in person, he was dumbstruck by her presence. That was as far as he would ever get. Moving any further would lead to him disappointing her.

He tried to push the thoughts away as they walked through the automatic doors and into a busy grocery store. Too many people. There were too many people, and it immediately stoked Bog’s need to hurry to the paper goods aisle and grab a couple more packages of toilet paper and leave. He ignored Marianne as she stubbornly tried to keep up.

Then he was there, stopping at the end of the aisle so abruptly, Marianne ran into his back and almost knocked him down. “Sorry!” Marianne giggled. Bog sighed, glancing down the empty aisle, completely empty and crowded with disappointed people. Disappointed short people.

There were six packages of toilet paper in a row, on the top shelf that he could see, that no one else could. He scowled at all the people, then stormed down the aisle. He reached up and without a second thought, snagged a package off the top shelf, turned, and dropped it into the closest cart. The woman pushing the cart gave him a relieved smile and said thank you. 

Marianne watched Bog with a smile as he walked down the aisle, grabbing the packages that were out of reach and dropping them into nearby carts. When he got to the last one, he hesitated a moment, then dropped it into a woman’s cart who was shopping with a small child. He offered her a slight smile as she thanked him, then returned to Marianne.

“That was nice of you,” she stated as he walked by her.

“I have enough,” grumbled Bog, not meeting her eyes. There was nothing else to do. They should go home, but another idea came to mind. He knew he was being needlessly rude to Marianne and needed some way to make up for it, like making that delayed lunch he invited her over for. Not just sandwiches, something better. Maybe grill something?

Bog wandered to the back of the store, heading to the meat counter. Chicken could be done fast. Maybe pick up potato salad to go with it? Bog went through a mental list of things he usually made to go with grilled chicken thighs. Salad? Risotto? Ramen? With a single-minded focus, Bog walked into another busy area of the store and noticed the shelves were empty. Not just a few shelves, but every shelf.

The store had been cleared out, and Bog stopped walking for a moment, shocked. This wasn’t a normal part of his life or anyone’s life in this town. The shelves were always fully stocked unless the cooler was broken. Bog took a deep breath, the scene making the first real sensation of fear rise up within him.

“Bog, are you okay?” Marianne whispered, reaching out to take his hand. Bog instinctively curled his hand around hers, suddenly feeling grounded. 

“I’m fine,” Bog mumbled, spotting a few packages of meats in one of the aisle coolers. “Looking for something I can make for ye for lunch.”

“Sandwiches are fine,” stated Marianne, worrying her lower lip, noting all the empty coolers.

“No, they are not.” Bog stepped toward the remaining packages and saw why they were left behind. People were grabbing the cheaper meats, and only the more expensive cuts were not taken. What was left to choose from were t-bones and ribeyes. He could afford them, but it felt awkward to buy something so expensive for Marianne. But why not? It was what was available. The brief sensation of fear returned, bringing with it an urgency to be with Marianne longer. “T-bone or ribeye?”

“What?” Marianne stared into the cooler. “Sandwiches are fine, Bog.”

“Ribeye it is.” Bog scooped up a large package, squeezing her hand. “I promised ye lunch, and we are not sharing with my mom.”

“Sandwiches are fine!” Marianne persisted, a look of panic crossing her face. “It’s too expensive.”

“N’no. It’s not,” muttered Bog. “I’ I would like to, to treat ye.” The stammer returned, exasperating Bog. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them, and tried again. “Marianne, just let me.”

“Okay.” Marianne nodded and smiled. “Thank you.”

-=-=-=-=-

They walked home with an uncomfortable silence between them. Marianne began going through a conversation, a very serious conversation she wanted to have with Bog. How was she going to do it? Just tell him? Bog, we’ve been friends for years. Have you ever wondered if we could be more? No, that wasn’t the way to go. They never talked about relationships. Bog listened to her rant about her ex, joining in on mocking him, but he had never expressed any interest in her like that.

What if he really wasn’t interested in her? If he wasn’t interested in her, then why did she keep catching him looking at her? He didn’t flirt with her. Ever. Even in the comfort of their homes while playing games, definately not face to face, Bog never said anything that was remotely flirtatious.

Marianne sighed heavily, and Bog tilted his head in her direction.

“I don’t want things to be w’weird between us,” Bog stated suddenly, looking away. He took a deep breath. “Ye, ye are my best friend, Marianne. I d’d ‘don’t want that to ever change. We need to just forget what my mom and her friends were doing.”

“What were they doing?” Marianne stopped walking, noting they were almost home. “I want to hear you say it, Bog.”

"S’ say what?” Bog began walking quickly, trying to get away from the conversation.

“Bog!” Marianne ran after him. “Look at me!” 

“I can’t!” Bog grimaced, breaking into a run. “No!”

“What are you, five?!” Marianne chased after him as he ran to his house, not about to let this go. “You promised me lunch!”

Bog ran up the steps to his house and stopped at his door. He stood there, facing it. “Marianne, ye need to forget it. Please. Don’t do this. We’ll go inside. I’ll make ye lunch, then ye go home, and we do what we usually do.” Marianne stepped to his side, staring at the door with him.

“I’ve got a great idea,” giggled Marianne. “If it’ll make you feel better, let’s have a huge argument, one loud enough for your mother to hear so she’ll never try this again.”

“Stop giggling, or it won’t work.” Bog smirked at her, liking this idea. “I’ll sneak a steak into yer backyard later.”

“Yeah, as long as I get that steak, you insisted on buying me when I told you not to. Can’t let that go to waste.” Marianne whispered to him. “Okay, ready?”

A pained look crossed Bog’s face. “I don’t mean any of this.” He took a deep breath.

“Bog! I can’t believe you tried to kiss me! What are you thinking!” Marianne beat him to it, shrieking like she was truly angry, clenching her fists. “What even gave you the idea to try that!” Bog’s jaw dropped, frozen in place. “Don’t ever talk to me again!” She turned and stormed down the steps, leaving Bog standing there, his mouth still open. He couldn’t respond, watching her walk to her house and slam the door behind her.

After a few minutes of silence, the front door of his house opened, and Griselda peered through the door, her face whiter than normal. “Bog?” she whispered in a horrified tone. “What’s going on?”

“Mother.” Bog turned to her, still stunned. He wasn’t faking it. Marianne’s words cut deeper than she could have known, even though he knew she didn’t mean them. She inadvertently crushed him, and the shock of it began making his eyes water. That was what she went with. An attempt to kiss her? Something he would never have tried in reality. He repeatedly swallowed, his throat tight and stomach turning in knots.

In stunned silence, Bog walked past his mother and went to the kitchen to prepare the steaks for grilling. He had nothing to say to his mother, shocked into his thoughts. Marianne didn’t mean what she said. She just said it for his mother’s benefit. They were just words. They were not meant to hurt him.

But they did.

Straight to his heart, those words circled and tore. Why? Because he had fantasized kissing her and occasionally, that’s where the daydream went. That she would be horrified he wanted to kiss her or touch her in any way. Marianne didn’t know that. She was just saying words.

Words.

They were just words.

She didn’t mean them the way they sounded.

Bog repeated the thoughts, trying to soften the blow. Marianne would never intentionally hurt him. They were just friends. She did not mean what she said. He fought the twitching in his face, feeling his lower lip tremble with the effort. The last thing he wanted was for his mother to see him actually cry about something, and he heard her standing in the doorway.

He hunched over, tucking his chin down as he moved around the kitchen in a frantic pace, unwrapping the steaks, laying them out on a baking sheet, and seasoning them quickly on both sides. He put his thoughts into preparing them, leaving them out to warm up to room temperature. When he was done, he walked stiffly to his room.

The fury came when he closed the door and stood in his neat and tidy room. This was his mother’s fault. Bog clenched his hands into fists and stood in front of the door, head down, trying to calm himself. She couldn’t leave well enough alone. She had to meddle. His relationship with Marianne was good where it was. Only now, she said what she said, and she would not have said it had it not been for the position his mother put them in today.

Bog took several deep breaths, eyes closed, then he looked up, through the window that was directly across from his door. Their homes were mirrors of each other, and Marianne’s bedroom was across from his. They actually had their computers set up against the wall so that when the curtains were open, they could see each other when they gamed.

Marianne was standing in her window, smiling at him, giving him a thumbs up now that he looked up. For a moment, he was confused, then he nodded, smiled back, and returned the gesture, the angry heat fading.

They were just words.

She didn’t mean them the way they sounded.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Marianne's unintentionally hurtful words, which brings up that serious discussion she wants to have that Bog would prefer they don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Chapter 3 was uploaded on the same day.

Marianne sat on her back porch, working on her laptop, listening to the sounds of Bog preparing his grill in his own yard. There was an open gate in the wooden fence between their yards. The door had long since fallen off its hinges, and Bog occasionally came through it to mow her backyard when he did his own. They had small yards. Marianne’s was nothing but grass because she just didn’t have time to do anything with it.

Bog’s yard was full of his mother’s projects, a lush garden, colorful decorations, flowers, and birds. His mother put out bird feeders and often sat on the porch, drinking tea and watching her birds. She talked to them, usually loud enough for Marianne to hear.

Sitting in the backyard was a step away from the constantly churning news cycle. The news was depressing and a little frightening, with little change in what was going on, other than repetition. Tonight, at midnight, the county was officially going into a stay at home lockdown. That was fine. Marianne was prepared, and honestly, it would cause little change in her life.

Other than the fact she couldn’t go strolling downtown for a good cup of coffee anytime she wanted to, things would seem kinda normal. It was such a small thing, that tiny little bit of freedom she took for granted. Marianne sighed, looking out over her yard, listening to the sounds of yard work going on nearby. She sat for a few minutes, knowing she was just stalling.

There was something wrong with Bog, and she knew she did it to him. She had been waiting for him to go into his room and saw the look on his face before he saw her. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him, and she had. Marianne chose her words based on what she thought would shock his mother, not what would affect Bog, and she felt terrible about it now.

With a sigh, she set her laptop aside and stood. For a moment, she gathered herself, then walked off her porch and up to the gate. She peeked through it to see Bog sitting on the edge of his back porch, watching his charcoal grill.

“Bog!” Marianne called out to him, keeping her voice low. He looked up, and she gestured for him to join her. Bog glanced back into his house, then got up and slowly trudged to the fence.

“Shouldn’t take too long.” Bog stated, stopping at the gate, leaning against the fence, so it wasn’t obvious he was talking to her. “I made a salad to go with it and am steaming fresh zucchini.”

Marianne sighed, and they were silent for a few minutes, long enough to make them both uncomfortable. “Bog, I’m sorry for what I said.”

“No problem, I know ye didn’t mean it, and it doesn’t matter anyway,” Bog mumbled in response. “Not like I would ever try that.”

“And why wouldn’t you?” The words left Marianne’s mouth before she could stop them. She grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I like things the way they are,” Bog stated. It was easier talking to Marianne if he didn’t have to look at her. “I, I don’t want to lose ye. I wouldn’t want ye talking about me to someone else like ye talk about yer ex.”

Marianne’s eyes widened at the thought. How could Bog think he was in any way like her awful ex? It wasn’t even possible. There was no way. 

“Bog, you aren’t Roland,” said Marianne, fighting with a sudden wave of emotion to make this right. “Don’t ever think you are.”

“I’m a man. Ye kinda hate them.” Bog whispered, leaning his head against the fence, staring up at the clear sky overhead.

“I do not hate men,” grumbled Marianne, edging closer to the edge of the gate. “I like you.”

“I’m going to go now. Need to get the steaks. How do ye like yers?” Bog shuffled a few steps forward, glancing at the opening.

“I say I like you, and you’re going to walk away?” Marianne peered through the opening, glaring at Bog, her mouth set into an annoyed line.

Bog looked at her blankly, unsure of what to do. “Yes?” He began fidgeting with his fingers, shifting his attention to his hands. “Yes.”

“Wow, you are really that stubborn?” Marianne scowled, her golden-brown eyes blazing with intensity. “Come here, Bog.”

“Why?” Bog stared at her suspiciously. He took a step back.

“If you don’t come here right now, I’m going into your yard.” Marianne disappeared. “I will.”

Bog swallowed, frozen where he stood with indecision. He took too long. Marianne stepped through the gate and walked up to Bog, stopping in front of him, a few inches away, staring up into his face. She reached out with both hands, laying them on his, sliding them along his arms.

“Bog, I know how you are, and I know who you are. I know how anxious you get, but maybe if we spend more time together in person, eventually, you’ll get more comfortable with me.” Marianne gazed into his eyes, those elusive blue eyes that she had continually caught glimpses of today. 

“Marianne,” Bog sighed. “I don’t want things to change.”

“Seriously, how are they changing? We’re just removing computers and game consoles to be around each other face to face.” Marianne’s hands slid down Bog’s arms, ending up at his hands, her fingers sliding into his.

“Ye don’t understand what I’m saying,” groaned Bog, unable to pull away, still frozen to where he stood. He grimaced, making an array of pained, frustrated faces, trying to find the right words. “This, this is all I have. It’s all I can hope for. I do not want to risk it going away, then I won’t have anything.” It took a lot out of him to say it.

Marianne frowned, letting his hands go to step forward and slide her arms around Bog’s waist, hugging him tightly as he lifted his arms in confusion. “Don’t you think after over five years of spending pretty much every day together online and being actual neighbors, I would get to know you really well?”

“And if it went away, if ye went away, and I didn’t have that anymore, don’t ye understand why I don’t want to risk it?” Bog replied sadly. “I can’t think of anything worse than screwing up and still having ye as my neighbor, but not being able to ever talk to ye again.”

“I love you, Bog.” The words erupted in a small sob, with Marianne pressing her face into his chest, unable to look at him and see his reaction. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time, years. I never brought it up for the same reasons you’re giving me, but now there’s no way things aren’t going to change. If our relationship is screwed up, then I’ll do it.”

Bog dropped his arms around Marianne, squeezing her tight, lowering his head to nuzzle the top of her head, kissing her, resting his face for a moment against her hair. How much had he wanted to do this? He trembled and took a breath. “For years? I loved ye from the moment we met, Marianne. Ye are so amazing and so beautiful, so out of my league. I was just happy ye wanted to be my friend.”

And they held each other for the moment, everything else forgotten. Neither one saw Griselda peering through the window into her backyard and smiling. She quickly backed away from the window, not wanting to let on she had seen them. Chuckling to herself, she went off to go tell her friends what she had just seen.

-=-=-=-=-

“So, where do we go from here?” Marianne smiled as she sat at a small folding table on her back porch with two chairs pulled up to it. She set it up with a cute little gold and white checkered table cloth, the bottle of wine they had been given by Clover, a couple of wine glasses, and two boxes of fancy chocolate-covered strawberries, also from Clover.

Bog smiled shyly, setting the two prepared plates down, one rare steak, one medium rare, piled high with steamed zucchini, and a nice leafy green salad with tomatoes and cucumbers. “Take it slow, and under no circumstances do we let my mother know.”

“Isn’t she going to wonder why you’re over here eating with me after that fake argument?” Marianne smiled back at Bog, then looked at her plate. “Wow, after all these years of you sending me pictures of your cooking when you made something for your mom, I finally get to enjoy one of these.”

“I like cooking for someone else. Just myself, not so much. I’ll just eat ramen or a frozen meal.” Bog settled into the chair across from her, smiling, making actual eye contact. 

She couldn’t stop herself. Marianne rose from her chair and walked around the small table to stand in front of Bog, who blinked at her curiously. Without a word, Marianne reached out with both hands, sliding them on either side of Bog’s face, using her fingers to encourage him to lift his head. He licked his lips nervously, brilliant blue eyes wide and staring, having a good idea about what was about to happen.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this, and I owe it to you for what I said. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” Marianne leaned closer, her nose touching Bog’s.

“We were trying to stage an argument for my mom,” whispered Bog, his eyes locked on hers.

“I’m still sorry.” Marianne’s lips brushed against his, then met gently, as pleasantly as they both had imagined. It was just a sweet, quick first kiss, but was followed by a second longer one. When Marianne pulled away, Bog smiled, his cheeks just as red as hers. They lingered for a moment, just gazing at each other, then Marianne went to her side of the table, smiling just as happy as he was.

“By the way, what were you going to yell at me?” Marianne grinned across the table, lifting a forkful of zucchini to her mouth.

Bog’s smile grew, and he laughed, “That I couldn’t believe you tried to kiss me!”

“That is so hurtful!” Marianne mock gasped at him, her smile growing.

“I love ye.” Bog grinned. “It feels so good to say it. I don’t even feel anxious about it.”

“That’s good because I love you too.” Marianne took another moment to just look at him and smile. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure how this conversation would play out until I actually got to it, but I wanted to avoid a: Let's kiss and see where it takes us scenario, because that one's a bit over used and I just didn't want to, but you still got a kiss out of them. :D
> 
> It does turn out that people who suffer extreme social anxiety tend to be better around people they know. In Bog's case, he just had to step/be prodded outside his comfort zone and cross the line holding him back.
> 
> Just a short, simple story and another one completed! Now on to finishing another story, because I have sworn to myself NOT TO START ANOTHER story until I've completed one more.
> 
> Enjoy your day! Thank you for reading!


End file.
